


Artful Dodger

by UppityBitch



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Romance, sneakily teaching the reader some European history, sneakily teaching the reader some art history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:33:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UppityBitch/pseuds/UppityBitch
Summary: In this AU story, Caroline was just assigned her auction house’s most esteemed client. And now she has the unfortunate task of telling the cocky bastard his family heirloom is a forgery...
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 84
Collections: Klaroline Gift Exchange — New Year's Day





	Artful Dodger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Austennerdita2533](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austennerdita2533/gifts).



> Author’s note: Written for the fabulous Austennerdita2533 for Klaroline Gift Exchange — New Year's Day. I really hope you like it! 

“Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.”

— Jane Austen, _Emma_

* * *

_I will not smash my magnifying glass over his head. I really need this job._ Her grip on the handle tightened, knuckles turning white even as Caroline flashed Klaus a blinding smile and said in a saccharine-sweet voice, “While it’s always a pleasure to hear about your family’s extensive collection of 19th century artwork from the romanticism movement — _again_ — that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re an expert in authenticating historical paintings.” 

Caroline recently had started her new job as senior appraiser for Maxfield Auction House, and Klaus Mikaelson was a valuable client always used to getting his way. The first time they spoke had been disastrous and none of their interactions since then had improved her opinion of him.

_“Pardon me, sweetheart. Is Carol Lockwood in?”_

_Caroline had looked up from Tyler’s desk outside their director’s office where she’d stopped to leave him a quick note about her laptop constantly disconnecting from the network. “I think she’s still in a meeting, but should be out just any time.” Woah. That jawline with those cheekbones should be illegal._

_“No matter_ _—_ _I suspect you’re quite the lovely distraction in the interim.” Gray eyes twinkling, he smoothly reached out for her hand, planting a kiss on her open palm as he introduced himself. “Klaus Mikaelson_ _— perhaps you’ve heard of me?”_

_“Of course, Mr. Mikaelson. How can I help you?”_

_“It must be quite the chore to constantly assist others,” he commiserated, glancing at the unkempt bills of lading stacked on Tyler’s desk._

_Tyler was a terrible administrative assistant, but a devoted son, which apparently balanced out in Carol’s mind, Caroline silently thought. Blue eyes narrowed as she realized Klaus assumed she was the assistant. Based on what? Blonde hair? Boobs?_

_Apparently misinterpreting her irritated silence for interest, he purred, “I must admit, I have a weakness for assistants. Perhaps I can convince you to take a longer lunchbreak and I can demonstrate how I can ‘assist’ you?”_

_“I’m not sure Tyler’s your type, but I’m happy to put in a good word,” she said with a shark’s grin as Tyler and Carol emerged from the conference room._

_Confusion gave way to awkward understanding on Klaus’ handsome face as Carol greeted Klaus. “Mr. Mikaelson, welcome! I see you’ve already met Caroline, our senior appraiser. She’ll be handling all of your family’s estate authentications from now on.”_

“I suppose not. But my family has collected fine art for generations, and the sizeable fortune I’ve spent at your auction house grants me a certain level of experience, don’t you agree, love,” Klaus cheekily asked, pulling her from the irritating memory.

She took a breath, reminding herself to reign in her temper. For now, she needed this job, and insulting a frequent buyer and seller of rare pieces with Maxfield Auction House would definitely get her fired. “Fine. Beginner level,” she grumbled, using the remote to turn up the recessed halogen lighting overhead to properly illuminate the canvas. Gesturing toward the wooden framework on the underside, she explained, “And even a _beginner_ would realize this canvas style is completely wrong for the 19th century.”

He raised an eyebrow, his tone a bit stiff as he questioned, “ _Wrong_? It’s a Paul Delaroche, an exceptional classical history painter.”

“Celebrated for his melodramatic history scenes, I know,” Caroline replied, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. “Although many consider Daniel Maclise to produce more impactful historical themes, balancing a whimsical technique with the serious historical overtones.” She shook her head, realizing she was getting off track. “The point is a plain weave-style canvas was mostly used during this time period. As you can see from the magnified edges along here, this is finely woven linen, most likely flax. Whoever put this together went to a lot of trouble — the highest-quality flax is harvested in Western Europe and is obscenely expensive to import.”

His prolonged silence started to concern her — she knew how touchy rich people could get when it came to the provenance of their family heirlooms. There was a faint blush coloring his cheeks now, and she couldn’t help but admire those perfectly sculpted cheekbones. _Too bad he was such an asshat_. “This piece has been a part of my family’s estate for years. Let’s table your theory about the canvas for now until your lab can thoroughly test the fibers. What were your other findings?”

Caroline didn’t miss the obvious challenge in his tone. Did he seriously think she was going to just let this go? There was no way she’d risk her job or the auction’s reputation to sell this forgery just because their high-maintenance client demanded it. “For a high-profile piece like this one, our lab results will be cross-referenced with an independent lab’s findings. That will take an additional week, and the records will be made public,” she told him matter-of-factly, allowing a hint of warning to enter her voice in case Klaus thought he could take his forged art to another auction house to save face.

“And I will look forward to the results as they’ll alleviate any concerns among the experts,” he confidently said, a slight twitch of his mouth as though he realized how close she was to smacking the dimples off of his face with her magnifying glass.

Putting a hand on her hip, she replied, “There’s also the matter of technique — those familiar with Delaroche’s work know that he used encaustic mixtures — pigments combined with hot wax to create exceptionally smooth surfaces.”

He leaned forward, tilting his head until the light glinted off of his dirty blonde curls. There was a teasing lilt to his accented voice as he observed, “The surface looks smooth to me. And, if I’m not mistaken, was sealed with an encaustic mixture.” 

Her fingers flexed as she briefly wondered what his close-cropped curls would feel like. _Damn it. Focus_. “Delaroche used beeswax. However, this work appears to have been sealed with paraffin, which didn’t come into common usage until decades after Delaroche would’ve painted this.”

Klaus turned his head in surprise, and she felt her skin grow warm underneath his obvious perusal. “Your attention to detail is impressive, sweetheart.” His dimples cut into his cheeks as he added, “At the risk of earning your ire once more, I suggest we withhold judgment until the lab results are complete.”

Caroline was startled to realize how close she’d gotten to him. _Just a slight tilt of her jaw and she’d brush his cheek with her lips_. She quickly put some space between them, irritated that he seemed amused by her reaction. _Focus on your job; not self-entitled dimples_. Scrambling for something to say, her eyes flicked back to the painting and said, “Delaroche certainly seemed fixated on Napoleon. This is one of two featuring Napoleon crossing the Alps. Plus, his well-known _Napoleon Abdicated in Fontainbleau_.”

“It’s to be expected — Napoleon was a complex man.”

She scoffed, “He was a power-hungry dictator.” 

“He made his siblings monarchs of the countries he conquered,” Klaus challenged, casually leaning against her desk.

_Damn it. She did not need to know how sexy he looked pressed against her office furniture_. “Seriously?! Lucien Bonaparte abused his position as Minister to spread fake information to give Napoleon’s regime the appearance of legitimacy. And his idiot brother Jerome bankrupted his country by endlessly renovating the palace and appointing councilmen who were as inept as they were corrupt.”

“He had great passion for his wife, Josephine.”

“And then left her for a younger royal who could bear him a son. Plus, he threatened to kidnap his second wife when she refused to join him in exile. Some great passion,” she rebuked, feeling oddly energized (and more than a little turned on) from the verbal sparring with Klaus. He obviously was well educated, and it had been a long time since she’d been so entertained by a simple conversation. _It was a shame she didn’t have time to explore this spark between them. She had other responsibilities_. “We’re getting sidetracked. Let’s focus on the painting.”

“Now, that’s disappointing. I have a rather amusing anecdote about a reclusive baron who once convinced Napoleon to sell the territories that became known as the Louisiana Purchase. Of course, it was more for the baron’s benefit than Napoleon’s. You see, the baron had a particularly irksome baby brother who’d wagered him two castles that he couldn’t do it.”

Shaking her head at Klaus’ silly antics, she gestured toward the canvas once more. “Even if you set aside the more modern materials that point to a forgery, the brushstrokes are a clear indicator of someone else’s work. Delaroche’s brushwork favored clean, precise movements that give an impression of severity.”

“And these brushstrokes don’t convey that,” he asked, sounding oddly offended.

She bit her lip, not missing the way his eyes briefly darkened at the movement. “I’m sure whoever the forger was, they possessed enough talent to make a passable replica of Delaroche’s work. There’s just some out-of-place feathering and whorls along the edges that point to an amateur.”

There was a brief flash of something in his gaze, but whatever it was passed too quickly for her to register. Realizing that her raised voice may have carried down the hall, she put on her best customer service smile, hoping her boss wouldn’t think she’d offended their beloved client. “Obviously, the lab results will give us a definitive answer, so perhaps you’re right we should table further discussions of your Delaroche going to auction for now.”

Lowering her lashes, she added, “No one can deny your discerning taste.” At his curious expression, she shyly admitted, “I _may_ have familiarized myself with the impressive pieces you’ve acquired from our auction house —Matisse’s _Odalisque couchée aux magnolias_ , Picasso’s _Women of Algiers_ , Jean-Michel Basquiat, _Flexible_ — no doubt remarkable additions to what I assume is a very eclectic collection.” _Not to mention outrageously expensive_. _But the return on investment would be astronomical_ _—_ _especially in certain ‘alternative’ markets_.

Klaus’ accented voice dipped lower, causing her to shiver pleasurably. “We should mark this momentous occasion, love — it’s the first compliment you’ve paid me.” With a seductive smirk, he asked, “Dare I press my luck and invite you home for a tour of my acquisitions? I suspect we’re kindred spirits when it comes to an _appreciation_ of the arts.”

Caroline felt her pulse quicken. _Be professional_. _Remember why you’re here_. Fighting the blush that she could feel creeping up her neck, she adopted a businesslike tone as she said, “I’m flattered, but I don’t socialize with our clients. The auction house has certain expectations of its staff and I enjoy my position here.”

He looked thoughtful as he pushed off from her desk, hands clasped behind his back as he slyly replied, “Then it’s fortunate I was just on my way to meet with your director concerning some private appraisals I require immediately.” He kept his tone light as he tempted, “Did I mention that I happen to count among my possessions Maclise’s _Alfred the Saxon King_?”

She gasped, a giddy warmth flowing over her at the thought of getting to see the work of one of her favorite romantic historical artists. She gave him an indulgent smile, finding his persistence charming. _Stop it, Caroline_. _The job is what matters_. “As long as you go through the proper channels and can get Carol’s approval, I’d love to see your collection.” 

* * *

_Velvet_ _flocked wallpaper_. Caroline was standing in a room larger than her apartment and it was drowning in gaudy, blood-red wallpaper that looked like Poe’s wet dream. _Money really could buy everything except taste_. “It’s a bit garish, but my older brother insisted we restore the estate to its original decor.” Klaus’ grin was peculiar, almost as though he was enjoying a private joke as he added, “we’re quite fond of _originals_.”

The brush of his fingertips as he handed her the crystal champagne flute was electric, and she quickly took a sip to hide her body’s inconvenient reaction. _Delicious_. The auction house’s celebrations only featured mid-range champagne; whatever Klaus had served her tasted like sun-ripened strawberries wrapped in silk. “Clearly,” she wryly commented, nodding her head at the millions of dollars of art displayed along the walls.

She crossed the room until she stood before Maclise’s _Alfred the Saxon King_ , unable to muffle the appreciative sigh that escaped her as she gazed at the brilliant colors. “I attended the pre-bid viewing Maxfield Auction House hosted last spring and couldn’t tear my eyes away from this piece. I just stood there, letting the warmth of the crimson and copper brushstrokes settle over me. The idle chatter of the other attendees faded away until I swear I could _hear_ Maclise’s feelings flowing through this work.”

At the stunned look on his handsome face, she was embarrassed and hastily told him, “That probably sounds stupid. I didn’t mean...actually, I don’t know what I meant. Certain pieces just resonate, you know?”

Klaus moved with an easy, confident grace that marked him as a man of both privilege and power. He set their champagne flutes on the antique sideboard and took her hands in his, grazing a thumb across her knuckles. “What extraordinary passion you have, sweetheart. You breathe new life into my collection and it feels as though I’m experiencing them for the first time.”

He tilted his curly head at the painting, whispering conspiratorially, “Actually, it was out of spite that I purchased this work. I was raised on a bitter father’s stories of how Alfred the Great was a cowardly ruler who bribed and bartered rather than properly waged war against the Viking invasion.” He winked at her, his tone impish as he revealed, “I always did enjoy overt displays of rebellion against my late father.” 

_Being emotionally invested in centuries’-old history? Old money was so eccentric_. “It’s possibly Maclise’s most stunning achievements. I’m glad spite worked out so well for you,” she teased, handing him his glass and impulsively clinking the rims before taking another drink.

“Thus far, your private appraisal seems weighted in my favor. May I assume my collection is authentic then?”

With effort, Caroline tore her gaze away from that piercing stare of his, his closeness keeping her off-balance. “My cursory on-site examination indicates your pieces are authentic.” She lightly teased, “Although I spy a Klimt and a Cézanne over there that look a little shady.”

Gray eyes sparkled with mirth as he let out a surprised bark of laughter. “You are quite the firebrand, love.” He leaned in, his accented voice suddenly husky as he confessed, “Is it any wonder why I fancy you?”

Too stunned to reply, she let herself get swept up in the moment as he kissed her, a slow, delicious flirtation with his lips that soothed her deep-rooted loneliness. It would be so easy to sink into his seduction, casting aside her worries... _forgetting her mission_. With a twinge of regret, she pulled back, impulsively kissing a dimpled cheek. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances.”

He sighed, “You’re awfully young to be so serious.”

She was wistful as she plucked his empty glass from his hand, busying herself across the room where he’d left the silver champagne bucket. “For now, I have to focus on the job.” She refilled their glasses, joining him in a final toast.

Caroline kept her face impassive as she watched Klaus finish the rest of his drink, waiting for the telltale drooping of his eyelids and long, even breathing that indicated the sleeping pill had taken effect. It had been a shame to drug such an expensive rosé, but she couldn’t very well have told Klaus to serve the cheap stuff. She felt a pang of regret as she saw him start to fall, and she quickly grabbed his torso to help him gently land on the enormous Persian rug.

She’d first seen Klaus Mikaelson at the auction house’s pre-bid viewing, but was careful not to draw his attention — yet. Maxfield Auction House had been on her radar for awhile, and she’d carefully maneuvered herself into the senior appraiser position, knowing a score this big would mean she’d be set for life. From her research, she’d learned that the Mikaelson estate had been patrons for years, buying and selling rare artwork for more money than several countries’ net worth.

She’d meant to quietly immerse herself into the auction house’s business, occasionally lifting a few lesser-valued items to get a feel for their security protocols, but then Klaus unexpectedly sought her out for appraisals, and then kept insisting she be brought in on all of his transactions with Maxfield Auction House. The Mikaelson account was too high-profile for Caroline’s initial strategy, so she’d had to come up with a new plan.

_And then, like a total amateur, she caught feelings_. On the surface, Klaus was exactly what he appeared to be — a rich, handsome, entitled asshat. But in her line of work, knowing how to read people was a crucial skillset, and it was clear that the face Klaus showed the world was only part of the story. She truly regretted that they hadn’t met under different circumstances. She heaved a forlorn sigh as she placed a gentle kiss to his relaxed forehead. _Focus on the job_.

* * *

The soft shuffle of footsteps as Caroline moved from the delicately woven textile of the rug to the maple floors was imperceptible to human ears — which is why Klaus knew the minute she’d moved across the room once more. He casually opened one eye, lazily observing how she was snatching the authentic pieces — like the Maclise — and not his forgeries — like the Klimt and Cézanne. _Clever girl_.

He first saw her at the Maxfield Auction House’s pre-bid viewing. Fresh from replenishing his hybrid army, he’d stopped by to indulge his artistic temperament and instead became instantly enthralled by the stunning blonde with a fierce gaze she couldn’t disguise no matter how hard she tried. She had the sensitive heart of an art lover and a thief’s calculating mind and he delighted in watching how she meticulously assessed security measures, escape routes and overall risk against the value of the pieces.

It was amusing how she carefully she’d watched him, not wanting to draw his attention. Too late — he had no intention of letting such an enigmatic little human get away. _There_. _That satisfied little smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she gazed in wonder at the Matisse_. He committed it to memory, fully intending to capture it on canvas later. He wondered which of her lovely smiles she’d give him when he showed her Matisse’s cottage he’d purchased in Cudillero, complete with the artist’s studio and its remarkable views of the Bay of Biscay left untouched along with several sketches he’d never made public.

Already planning their inevitable reunion, Klaus decided to give Caroline a generous head start. After all, she was the most intriguing little art thief he’d come across in centuries.

_What a merry chase this will be_. 


End file.
